


Part Three: Clothing and Flowers

by tisfan



Series: Choose Your Own Adventure [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-09 20:33:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan





	1. Clint: Getting money for Tux

“Becca, come on,” Bucky begged.

He’d managed to scrape up forty dollars of his own money, got Ma to give him some extra chores, including washing and waxing and vacuuming the family car for a promised twenty dollars. Which left him to scrounge another twenty or so just to rent a tux. He was getting a discounted one with no pocket squares and no shoes. He’d decided his black boots would be fine, no one would notice, and it saved him almost thirty dollars, not renting ugly, uncomfortable formal shoes.

Which left him asking his sister. Bucky wasn’t sure how much money she had, but she’d taken babysitting jobs and made pumpkin roll cookies around the holidays and sold them to the neighbors, and did dog-walking. She might have quite the bankroll put aside. Bucky could probably pay her back, if she’d let him borrow in the first place.

Becca was laying on her bed, her finger tucked inside her book. Bucky wasn’t sure what the book was, but undoubtedly it was something she’d read before. Becca had a stack of about fifty books and she read them over and over and over. She also read books from the library, and ones she borrowed from her friends. She always had her nose in a book.

“I don’t see how it’s my responsibility to pay for your prom,” Becca said.

“I’m not askin’ you to pay for my prom,” Bucky said. “I’m askin’ if I can borrow forty dollars.” Clint had already said that he’d pay for dinner, so that was done. But he wanted to get Clint a boutineer, and even from a street vendor, that’d probably run him another ten.

Dad was going to drive them -- which meant that Bucky would have washed and waxed the car anyway, and Ma probably knew that. She was being kind, and Bucky did recognize it. It wasn’t her fault that living in Brooklyn had gotten so expensive. Bucky knew that.

It probably _was_ Bucky’s own fault that he’d frittered most of his allowance money away.

“It’s my experience that one should never lend out money that one is not prepared to ever see again,” Becca said. “‘Neither a borrower nor a lender be.’” That had the air of a quote and Bucky wanted to groan.

“I ain’t never asked for borrow money from you before,” Bucky pointed out. “An’ I shared my Christmas popcorn with you.”

“You _gave_ me your Christmas popcorn,” Becca said, “because you don’t like popcorn. That’s hardly--”

“It was mine, and I could have thrown it out, but I didn’t.”

Christmas popcorn was something their aunt made from time to time, all white chocolate drizzle and dried cranberries and mint flavoring. Bucky hated it. Becca would have eaten nothing but if their parents would have let her.

“Tell you what,” Becca said, tapping her chin with her book, “I’ll give you the money-- If… you come with me an’ Andy Proctor for the movies, instead of Ma.”

“You have movies with Andy _every weekend_ from now til doomsday.”

“Every other week, then, and you only have to pay me back twenty,” Becca said. “Come on, you don’t even have to go in with us, you can go to a different movie. I’m just tired of Ma sitting in between us.”

“Becca, you’re _fourteen_ , it’s only fair you get chaperoned around.”

“Okay, so sit in the back, something. Come on, this’ll work out for everyone, and you know I can date on my own at sixteen, that’s only fifteen months from now.”

“You’re counting down?”

“Bet your ass I am,” Becca said.

“Okay. Okay. Every other weekend,” Bucky agreed. Maybe Clint would like to go to the movies, too, and that would kill two birds with one stone. Or something.

Besides, even if he didn’t sit between Becca and her boyfriend, he would probably be scarier for Andy Proctor than Ma was.

“Deal,” Bucky said.

Becca huffed and made a huge production of rolling off the bed. She ran her fingers over the spines of her books, packed tight in the milkcrate bookshelf and pulled out one. She flipped the book open and Bucky saw that she’d hollowed out the pages. “I keep very careful track of how much money I have, James Barnes, so don’t even think--”

“I wouldn’t,” Bucky protested.

She unpinned the bills and carefully counted out one ten, and a handful of fives. The rest she gave to him in a roll of dimes.

“How much do you have in there anyway, and what are you planning to do with it?”

“After your forty comes out,” she said, writing a little scrap of paper that said Bucky owed her twenty dollars and then she made him _sign it_ , “I’ve got almost two hundred left. And I don’t know. Maybe I’ll use it for my own prom.”

**Move on to[Selling Tickets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14791926/chapters/34220475) **


	2. Clothing and Flowers, Steve

“Becca, come on,” Bucky begged.

He’d managed to scrape up forty dollars of his own money, got Ma to give him some extra chores, including washing and waxing and vacuuming the family car for a promised twenty dollars. Which left him to scrounge another twenty or so just to rent a tux. He was getting a discounted one with no pocket squares and no shoes. He’d decided his black boots would be fine, no one would notice, and it saved him almost thirty dollars, not renting ugly, uncomfortable formal shoes.

Which left him asking his sister. Bucky wasn’t sure how much money she had, but she’d taken babysitting jobs and made pumpkin roll cookies around the holidays and sold them to the neighbors, and did dog-walking. She might have quite the bankroll put aside. Bucky could probably pay her back, if she’d let him borrow in the first place.

Becca was laying on her bed, her finger tucked inside her book. Bucky wasn’t sure what the book was, but undoubtedly it was something she’d read before. Becca had a stack of about fifty books and she read them over and over and over. She also read books from the library, and ones she borrowed from her friends. She always had her nose in a book.

“I don’t see how it’s my responsibility to pay for your prom,” Becca said.

“I’m not askin’ you to pay for my prom,” Bucky said. “I’m askin’ if I can borrow forty dollars.” Steve had already said that he’d pay for dinner, so that was done. But he wanted to get Steve a boutineer, and even from a street vendor, that’d probably run him another ten.

Dad was going to drive them -- which meant that Bucky would have washed and waxed the car anyway, and Ma probably knew that. She was being kind, and Bucky did recognize it. It wasn’t her fault that living in Brooklyn had gotten so expensive. Bucky knew that.

It probably _was_ Bucky’s own fault that he’d frittered most of his allowance money away.

“It’s my experience that one should never lend out money that one is not prepared to ever see again,” Becca said. “‘Neither a borrower nor a lender be.’” That had the air of a quote and Bucky wanted to groan.

“I ain’t never asked for borrow money from you before,” Bucky pointed out. “An’ I shared my Christmas popcorn with you.”

“You _gave_ me your Christmas popcorn,” Becca said, “because you don’t like popcorn. That’s hardly--”

“It was mine, and I could have thrown it out, but I didn’t.”

Christmas popcorn was something their aunt made from time to time, all white chocolate drizzle and dried cranberries and mint flavoring. Bucky hated it. Becca would have eaten nothing but if their parents would have let her.

“Tell you what,” Becca said, tapping her chin with her book, “I’ll give you the money-- If… you come with me an’ Andy Proctor for the movies, instead of Ma.”

“You have movies with Andy _every weekend_ from now til doomsday.”

“Every other week, then, and you only have to pay me back twenty,” Becca said. “Come on, you don’t even have to go in with us, you can go to a different movie. I’m just tired of Ma sitting in between us.”

“Becca, you’re _fourteen_ , it’s only fair you get chaperoned around.”

“Okay, so sit in the back, something. Come on, this’ll work out for everyone, and you know I can date on my own at sixteen, that’s only fifteen months from now.”

“You’re counting down?”

“Bet your ass I am,” Becca said.

“Okay. Okay. Every other weekend,” Bucky agreed. He was pretty sure Steve would go to the movies with him. Steve loved the movies and that would kill two birds with one stone. Or something.

Besides, even if he didn’t sit between Becca and her boyfriend, he would probably be scarier for Andy Proctor than Ma was.

“Deal,” Bucky said.

Becca huffed and made a huge production of rolling off the bed. She ran her fingers over the spines of her books, packed tight in the milkcrate bookshelf and pulled out one. She flipped the book open and Bucky saw that she’d hollowed out the pages. “I keep very careful track of how much money I have, James Barnes, so don’t even think--”

“I wouldn’t,” Bucky protested.

She unpinned the bills and carefully counted out one ten, and a handful of fives. The rest she gave to him in a roll of dimes.

“How much do you have in there anyway, and what are you planning to do with it?”

“After your forty comes out,” she said, writing a little scrap of paper that said Bucky owed her twenty dollars and then she made him _sign it_ , “I’ve got almost two hundred left. And I don’t know. Maybe I’ll use it for my own prom.”

**Skip to[Selling Tickets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14791926/chapters/34220475)**


	3. Tony's Tailor

“Jaime!” Ma bellowed.

Bucky nearly knocked his math homework onto the floor. “What?” He was pretty sure he wasn’t in trouble, it wasn’t that kind of bellow, and anyway, he hadn’t done anything to get in trouble. Maybe he had forgotten to do something and Ma was about to take him to task for it

“There’s someone here for you,” Ma said, and she was waiting for him at the end of the hallway.

The man at the door was unfamiliar, wearing a suit and a squarish little cap that went together like a uniform.

“Yeah?”

“Good afternoon,” the man said with a sharp little nod. “I’m Happy Hogan, Tony Stark’s driver.”

“Uh… yeah, okay? Nice to meet you,” Bucky said, confused. Tony had a driver? Well, probably, yes, but why wasn’t Tony here, if his driver was here, and for that matter, Bucky was pretty sure he’d never told Tony where he lived, which meant that Tony was doing hack-y things to the computer systems at school, which was cool, if a little creepy. Except that it was Tony and he never meant to do things to be creepy, he was just usually in a hurry.

“Mr. Stark is waiting,” Mr. Hogan said, impatiently. As if Bucky had any idea what was going on.

“For what? Where?”

“For you. At the tailor’s,” Mr. Hogan said, as if explaining things to a very small and not particularly bright child.

“Oh.” That still didn’t really answer the question, but Bucky kissed his Ma’s cheek. “I’ll be back--” He glanced at Hogan.

“I’ll have him home before eight, ma’am,” Mr. Hogan promised.

“There you are,” Tony said when they got to the tailor. “I was starting to wonder if you’d abducted my driver and run off with the car. You can have it, by the way. The car. It’s the one Howard picked out for me, and I hate it. All safety features and stuff. Yuck. I want something with a little pizazz, you know.”

Bucky didn’t know. He’d thought the car was very nice. It wasn’t even weird to sit in the back seat, because that’s what he did most of the time, Dad not being a big believer in shotgun dibs and preferring all the kids in the back seat.

“I don’t want your car, Tony,” Bucky said, because he was pretty sure if he didn’t say it, they’d end up with the car, and then Dad would wonder what Bucky was doing, and there’d be taxes and stuff. (Bucky heard all about that every time some ‘lucky SOB’ won at lottery down at the grocery, and how that sort of thing was taxes for people who were bad at math, and just mostly Dad’s way of having sour grapes.)

“Well, that’s probably best, anyway. Dowdy old thing,” Tony said. “So, come on, this is Emile, he’ll get you all set up. They already have my measurements, and I thought we should match. Well, mostly match. I’ll have a red cummerbund and you’ll have a gold one.”

“You’ve already picked out colors?” Bucky turned as the tailor directed, the whole while the man was stretching a tape around Bucky’s various bits and pieces, and reading off a set of numbers to another man.

“Well, yes,” Tony said. “Red and gold, those are my colors, and you’re my date, so I figured it just went that way. Don’t worry, the tux is tasteful, it’ll go with whatever cummerbund and tie you want to wear next time.”

“Next time?” Bucky croaked.

“Well, yes. Every man should have at least one tuxedo,” Tony said. “Elegant, fashionable, good at a multitude of occasions.”

“Tony, do you know how much a tuxedo costs?” Bucky asked.

“No, but I’ve always been told if I have to ask, I can’t afford it,” Tony said. “And I’ve never had to ask. Don’t worry, sunshine. I want to see you looking good. Consider it my present to myself.”

Finally, after Emile had measured everything that he could possibly need, they brought him out what Tony called “a blank” and had him try it on. It was too big, all the way around, but Tony said that would be fixed in the alterations, but that it was easier to cut and hem than to add more material -- “And you know, if you get taller, or wider or something, they can let it out. A good tux can last years, and go through a wide variety of fits. It’ll be great, yeah, take those pants in. They’re not…. Tighter than that, I want to see those thighs.”

“Tony!” Bucky hissed, blushing.

“What, murderstrut, you’ve got a great bod. Show it off, it’s a gift to mankind, and especially to Tony-kind,” Tony said.

“You’re terrible,” Bucky told him. “Why am I going to prom with you again?”

“Because I’m the most exciting person you know, Buckaroo,” Tony said, “and you need some excitement in your life.”

Hogan took them out for a quick bite to eat after the tailors, and Tony ordered insanely good Italian food for them both, speaking fluent Italian -- well, at least Bucky assumed it was, since Bucky didn’t speak a word of Italian that didn’t come from a Bugs Bunny cartoon.

Bucky wasn’t even sure what he was eating, except that it was delicious, with veal and capers and some sort of fancy pasta underneath, and a creamy custard dessert with a hard shell over it.

By the time Tony had dropped him off at home, Bucky was groaning with his hands over his stomach. He’d definitely eaten too much.

 Tony made a gesture at Hogan. The driver sighed, then a black screen came up between the driver’s compartment and the back. “Privacy screen.”

“Privacy for what?”

“For this,” Tony said, and leaned in. He hesitated for just a moment, as if to gauge Bucky’s interest, and then kissed him, soft and full on the mouth.

“I’ll see you at school,” Tony said.

“Yeah, uh… goodnight, Tony,” Bucky stammered, his lips still tingling from the kiss. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

**Skip to[Selling Tickets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14791926/chapters/34220475)**


	4. Tux discussion for Prom with Brock

“Becca, come on,” Bucky begged.

He’d managed to scrape up forty dollars of his own money, got Ma to give him some extra chores, including washing and waxing and vacuuming the family car for a promised twenty dollars. Which left him to scrounge another twenty or so just to rent a tux. He was getting a discounted one with no pocket squares and no shoes. He’d decided his black boots would be fine, no one would notice, and it saved him almost thirty dollars, not renting ugly, uncomfortable formal shoes.

Which left him asking his sister. Bucky wasn’t sure how much money she had, but she’d taken babysitting jobs and made pumpkin roll cookies around the holidays and sold them to the neighbors, and did dog-walking. She might have quite the bankroll put aside. Bucky could probably pay her back, if she’d let him borrow in the first place.

Becca was laying on her bed, her finger tucked inside her book. Bucky wasn’t sure what the book was, but undoubtedly it was something she’d read before. Becca had a stack of about fifty books and she read them over and over and over. She also read books from the library, and ones she borrowed from her friends. She always had her nose in a book.

“I don’t see how it’s my responsibility to pay for your prom,” Becca said.

“I’m not askin’ you to pay for my prom,” Bucky said. “I’m askin’ if I can borrow forty dollars.” Brock had already said that he’d pay for dinner, so that was done. But he wanted to get Brock a boutineer, and even from a street vendor, that’d probably run him another ten.

Dad was going to drive them -- which meant that Bucky would have washed and waxed the car anyway, and Ma probably knew that. She was being kind, and Bucky did recognize it. It wasn’t her fault that living in Brooklyn had gotten so expensive. Bucky knew that.

It probably _was_ Bucky’s own fault that he’d frittered most of his allowance money away.

“It’s my experience that one should never lend out money that one is not prepared to ever see again,” Becca said. “‘Neither a borrower nor a lender be.’” That had the air of a quote and Bucky wanted to groan.

“I ain’t never asked for borrow money from you before,” Bucky pointed out. “An’ I shared my Christmas popcorn with you.”

“You _gave_ me your Christmas popcorn,” Becca said, “because you don’t like popcorn. That’s hardly--”

“It was mine, and I could have thrown it out, but I didn’t.”

Christmas popcorn was something their aunt made from time to time, all white chocolate drizzle and dried cranberries and mint flavoring. Bucky hated it. Becca would have eaten nothing but if their parents would have let her.

“Tell you what,” Becca said, tapping her chin with her book, “I’ll give you the money-- If… you come with me an’ Andy Proctor for the movies, instead of Ma.”

“You have movies with Andy _every weekend_ from now til doomsday.”

“Every other week, then, and you only have to pay me back twenty,” Becca said. “Come on, you don’t even have to go in with us, you can go to a different movie. I’m just tired of Ma sitting in between us.”

“Becca, you’re _fourteen_ , it’s only fair you get chaperoned around.”

“Okay, so sit in the back, something. Come on, this’ll work out for everyone, and you know I can date on my own at sixteen, that’s only fifteen months from now.”

“You’re counting down?”

“Bet your ass I am,” Becca said.

“Okay. Okay. Every other weekend,” Bucky agreed. Maybe Brock would like to go to the movies, too, and that would kill two birds with one stone. Or something. He had a brief moment of all over bodyheat, thinking of sitting next to Brock Rumlow in the dark.

Besides, even if he didn’t sit between Becca and her boyfriend, he would probably be scarier for Andy Proctor than Ma was.

“Deal,” Bucky said.

Becca huffed and made a huge production of rolling off the bed. She ran her fingers over the spines of her books, packed tight in the milkcrate bookshelf and pulled out one. She flipped the book open and Bucky saw that she’d hollowed out the pages. “I keep very careful track of how much money I have, James Barnes, so don’t even think--”

“I wouldn’t,” Bucky protested.

She unpinned the bills and carefully counted out one ten, and a handful of fives. The rest she gave to him in a roll of dimes.

“How much do you have in there anyway, and what are you planning to do with it?”

“After your forty comes out,” she said, writing a little scrap of paper that said Bucky owed her twenty dollars and then she made him _sign it_ , “I’ve got almost two hundred left. And I don’t know. Maybe I’ll use it for my own prom.”

**Skip to[Selling Tickets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14791926/chapters/34220475)**


End file.
